


Taste the Promise on My Lips

by AvoidingAverage



Series: Cops and Robbers [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And KILL IT, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cop Geralt, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sexual Tension, Sexy Jaskier, Some angst, Songfic, Sort Of, Thirsty Geralt, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer is the sister Geralt never had, You know Jaskier would sing Zayn, jaskier is a flirt, or wanted, thief jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvoidingAverage/pseuds/AvoidingAverage
Summary: He walked to the railing and looked out over the city, enjoying the cool breeze against the familiar burn of whiskey in his throat.  Maybe he could convince Yen to let him sneak out once she had her claws firmly set in her latest victim--“Climb on board,” a low, sultry voice crooned from the stage, cutting through the noise of the crowd easily.Geralt's neck popped as he whipped around and looked for the band he’d initially dismissed.  He knew that voice.“We’ll go slow and high tempo…”_______________________At the social event of the season, Geralt finds himself face to face with the thief who has haunted his thoughts since the first time he saw him.  But is there any hope for them in the wake of the dangers growing around them?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cops and Robbers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650430
Comments: 33
Kudos: 549





	Taste the Promise on My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long--me and my muse have not been getting along. This story is a little outside of my angsty comfort zone, but I've been really enjoying this sexy, confident version of Jaskier leaving Geralt gasping and needy in his wake.
> 
> I highly recommend listening to "Pillowtalk" by Zayn if you want to get the raw energy of Jaskier just right for this story.

“Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

Yennefer gave him a smile that siren’s must use to lure the foolish into their waters. He was not moved. “I told you you had a choice--tell me about the phone or go to the party.”

Geralt focused on loosening the black silk tie that felt like a noose around his neck and didn’t respond to the gimlet expression his partner was directing his way.

It was no surprise that Yennefer had connected the dots between Geralt’s sudden spree of bad luck and the phone he now carried with him everywhere. He was still stuck on administrative leave so all he could do to alleviate his boredom was continue to slog through the seemingly endless stacks of paperwork. And check his phone for the latest slue of texts from Jaskier. Even Roach was beginning to be disgusted with how much time he was spending on the couch.

Which was when Yennefer made her move.

His partner had thrown open the door to his apartment in a dazzling dark purple gown and imperiously tossed a dark suit in a plastic cover at him. “Get dressed,” she ordered when he only blinked at her from his position on the couch in his sweatpants, “We’re going out before you get absorbed into that awful couch.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’m going to find out everything I can about your secret admirer.” 

“....fine.”

  
  
  


Which was how he ended up dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal grey suit and climbing into a sleek town car after Yennefer.

In a fit of pique, he waited until the car was moving to toss the tie out the window and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his snowy white shirt. Yennefer rolled her eyes, but decided to allow his childishness to pass without comment. She was content in the victory she’d procured: Geralt, cleaned and polished, with his hair pulled back into a messy bun and dressed in perfect compliment to her own sleek outfit.

He sighed, resisting the urge to rake his finger through his hair. “Where are we going?”

Yennefer smiled and draped herself across the backseat like a particularly content tiger. “The social event of the season, of course,” she said, “ _ Everyone _ who is  _ anyone _ will be there.”

“So why are  _ we _ going?”

The kick to his shins was almost worth it.

“Stop being such a grouch. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

Geralt grunted and looked out the window as they pulled up to the already crowded venue. “Better to sit at home than be gawked at by a bunch of strangers.”

The door was opened by a sharply dressed valet and the roar of the crowd of photographers and guests filled the relatively quiet space within the car. Yennefer waited until Geralt exited and reached back to help her out of the vehicle to lean forward and whisper, “The gawking is the best part.”

His soft huff of laughter was lost in the sounds of the people moving around him and he chose to focus on maneuvering through the flashing lights to the relative safety of the building beyond. A few times Yennefer pulled him to a stop to grace some lucky photographer with a smile, regal as any princess. Geralt allowed himself to serve as the backdrop to her flashier personality and style, feeling a little like a Ken doll next to a terrifyingly competent Barbie.

Thankfully they were able to move into the building without much fuss. Yennefer presented their tickets to a man inside with a flourish while Geralt took in the impressive finery on display.

All around them, couples draped in fine silks and designer clothes moved around the room amidst massive displays of art pieces. The sculptures and bright colors of the artist mimicked the graffiti artists of the inner city magnified into towering creations. Someone had arranged brightly colored lights at the base of each that shifted the shadows into new shapes. The gallery was large enough to hold a respectable number of the larger art pieces along with a few smaller displays mixed in to keep people from clustering.

Almost immediately, Yennefer slipped away from his side to pursue whatever poor shmuck she was hunting tonight. His partner’s tendency to break and mold rich men to her whims was, frankly, terrifying, but he could at least be sure the victims she chose deserved it. He was pretty sure she only brought him to make the other men at the party jealous and covetous of being at her side. It was also equally possible that she just liked to see him uncomfortable for the evening. He could see the deep purple of her dress in flashes as she smiled and simpered and plotted a way to get herself another summer house.

Which left him to stalk over to the quietest looking area of the massive ballroom to drink and brood about his cases.

Geralt ordered a whiskey neat from the well-dressed bartender before the crowds got too thick and stuffed a couple bills into his tip jar when the man passed it over with a nod and no attempt at small talk. Already, Geralt’s feet ached from his uncomfortable shoes and he wanted to pull off the warm blazer in the crowded room. He hated feeling the lingering glances from the women here. While he wasn’t above using the opportunity to take home a stranger to fuck into his mattress, the thought of doing so when his mind was fixed on the increasingly impossible robbery case wasn’t appealing.

Every time he found something worth looking into, he found himself shut down or locked out by the officer assigned to the case or by layers of red tape. It was maddening.

None of the items that had gone missing had been sold through any pawn shop or fence in their networks--not even the ridiculous lute. It added an extra level of intrigue to the already complicated case. The only way the robbers could risk waiting so long for a payout was if they had a financier backing them. Or already had buyers set up before the hit. Either way, it spoke of a much more advanced level of thievery than a simple smash and grab.

The grainy image of Jaskier--looking shocked and panicked when Geralt raced past him on the steps of the farmer’s market--had been returned with no results. It was obvious that Davidson thought Geralt had already wasted enough time on this dead end case, but Geralt wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Not after the attack and certainly not after he’d felt Jaskier crooning softly in his ear while his fingers stroked through his hair.

The bigger question now was what Geralt would do if he  _ did _ manage to track down the thief. 

He was aware that keeping the flip phone in his pocket a secret even from Yen had crossed a few lines. He’d also kept the description of the man who’d saved him in the alley purposely vague so he didn’t contradict whatever lies Jaskier told the cops at the scene. There was more pleasure in the thought of beating Jaskier at his own game than seeing the thief behind bars. Even worse, Geralt had a sinking suspicion that the blue-eyed trickster was out of his depths with the men who were now hunting Geralt as well.

For now, all he had were countless questions and precious few answers.

He glanced down at the screen of the flip phone and frowned when he saw there were no new messages or calls. Jaskier usually called around this time of night and he’d expected to be able to waste some of the evening listening to him chatter while the phone provided a barrier against flirtatious guests. Christ, he was being ridiculous. Just because the man had saved him and pet him a few times was hardly enough to overlook all the crimes he’d committed.

Geralt brushed aside a hopeful looking woman and prowled toward one of the balconies at the edge of the room. He could hear the band beginning to warm up for the main act, but he didn’t bother to listen to any introductions. The music at these sorts of things was usually intended to cater to the snobby, older elements of the crowd looking to waltz and foxtrot their way through the evening. It was usually only marginally better than wedding bands.

He walked to the railing and looked out over the city, enjoying the cool breeze against the familiar burn of whiskey in his throat. Maybe he could convince Yen to let him sneak out once she had her claws firmly set in her latest victim--

“ _ Climb on board _ ,” a low, sultry voice crooned from the stage, cutting through the noise of the crowd easily.

Geralt's neck popped as he whipped around and looked for the band he’d initially dismissed.  _ He knew that voice _ .

“ _ We’ll go slow and high tempo… _ ”

Around him, the crowd made a few appreciative sounds as the singer continued to sing as though he were weaving a tapestry of sexual intrigue and desire. Geralt pushed through them, grateful now for the crowd that kept his movements camouflage.

“ _ Light and dark _ ,” the singer continued, his band allowing his voice to do the work of drawing the crowd in, “ _ Hold me hard and mellow _ .”

Geralt moved around an older woman with hair teased to staggering heights and felt his face go slack with shock when he finally got a clear view of the stage.

Jaskier stood silhouetted against a single spotlight, hands wrapped around his microphone like it was a lover. His eyes were closed, lashes dark against paler cheeks. Geralt’s mouth went dry as a slow smirk bloomed on lips tinted red and bright blue eyes slowly opened to stare out into the crowd. Behind him, the band began to play, but Geralt couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the intimate dare in Jaskier’s eyes as he seduced a sea of strangers.

“ _ I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, ‘body but us, bodies together _ .”

Someone bumped into him on one side and it distracted him enough that he was able to drag air into his burning lungs. His eyes dragged themselves away from the sin dripping from Jaskier’s mouth to stare at the length of his neck highlighted by his unbuttoned shirt. A silk tie lay draped and untied around his neck like a dark promise. Stubble darkened his jawline and emphasized the rough styling of his hair to make him look like he’d tumbled out of bed with a lover only moments before.

Blue eyes, wicked with promise, narrowed in on one of the women staring up at him in helpless wonder and Jaskier smiled in a way that dripped sex. His hands drifted away from the mic to tangle in his hair and trail long fingers across his collarbones, following the buttons of his shirt to the waist of his leather pants in casual promise. 

“ _ I love to hold you close, tonight and always _ ,” he sang, “ _ I love to wake up next to you. _ ”

Someone made a choking sound nearby and Geralt wished he had enough brain cells left to agree.

The whole room felt like it was holding its breath--caught in the spell of a master. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, thick with bright desire and the sinking realization that he was already in too deep.

He wanted Jaskier.

_ “I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.” _

He wanted the dark promise in those eyes, the mischief lurking in his smile. He wanted to run his fingers through that dark hair and watch the long line of his throat arch up under his mouth. His mouth watered at the thought of what sounds Jaskier might make when he--

“ _ Geralt _ .”

Geralt jerked in surprise at Yennefer’s sharp hiss and the sting of her nails pinching his arm. He blinked, sluggish as someone waking from a spell, and turned to find her staring at him contemplatively. Her eyes darted to the stage and he could see her putting the pieces together with shocking speed. To distract her from the interrogation he knew was coming, he forced himself to speak through a voice still slightly raw with need. “Did you need something?”

In an instant, her expression returned to the carefully vapid face of the type of woman who appealed to the men she hunted. She giggled--a sound the normal Yennefer would never be caught dead making--and linked her arm with that of the man at her side. “I wanted to introduce you to someone,” she said with a warning look tossed Geralt’s way, “This is Callum Rookwood. He’s one of the conservators at the Community Art Foundation.”

Yen’s eyes flicked up to the banner hanging over the doorway in a blatant reminder that the party was in honor of that foundation. Geralt resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her.

~~ He would have figured it out. ~~

Callum Rookwood was the type of man that was fully aware of how he looked. He was square jawed, but slender in a way models hoped to achieve. Unlike most, he met Geralt’s eyes easily from the same height and didn’t seem intimidated by the no-doubt brooding expression on his face. Instead, he offered his hand to shake in a way that set off the Rolex at his wrist and the fine cut of his pale grey suit. If Geralt were any other man, he would no doubt be charmed by the pleasant smile and laughing green eyes.

“A pleasure to meet you, Geralt,” he said with a voice that was smooth as a fine wine and hands that lingered just a bit too long to be fully platonic, “Yennefer has told me a lot about you.”

“Has she?” Geralt rumbled and cut his eyes over at where Yen was drinking deeply from her wine glass in an effort to avoid looking at him. “I doubt I’m a topic of much interest.”

Callum grinned at Geralt’s dry tone. “Nonsense. Anyone risking their lives on the street to keep the city safe is worth mentioning.”

“Hmm.” 

“I heard that you were helping with the museum robbery from a few weeks ago,” he continued, unfazed by Geralt’s lack of chatter. “Have you found anything out?”

“Nothing that can be made public.”

Yennefer made a face at him for his brisk tone, but smiled at Callum. “I’m going to powder my nose. I’ll be back in a moment. Why don’t you two continue chatting until I return?”

Before Geralt could do more than scowl at her, she was moving through the crowd in a lazy loop that would eventually take her to the restrooms. It was obvious that she’d pawned Rookwood off on him--the question was, why?

“She’s quite interesting, isn’t she?” Rookwood murmured, watching her stop to smile at a blushing young man, “Like a cat among mice.”

Surprised at the accuracy of the description, Geralt focused on the man beside him. While Rookwood looked like just another one of Yennefer’s usual targets, he didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the knowledge that she was playing with them. There was a hint of a smile on his lips when he turned back to Geralt.

“You appear to be a man of few words compared to your partner,” he said without any sign of annoyance. Just assessing.

It made Geralt nervous. He had the feeling that this man was a more formidable enemy than he’d initially expected. There was something about the way Callum Rookwood seemed so aware of all the things others attempted to hide that reminded him of some predator eyeing his prey.

If Yennefer was a cat among mice, Rookwood was the hawk waiting to strike.

“I speak when it suits me.”

Rookwood smiled, “I’m sure it helps in your line of work.”

“Sometimes.”

_ “Yeah, reckless misbehavior,” _ Jaskier continued on the stage and Geralt twitched with the need to watch him,  _ “A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw. In the bed all day, bed all day. Fucking and fighting on.” _

Geralt’s skin felt too tight and he could feel a flush curling through his heat. He watched Rookwood study him with growing interest and realized the man might misunderstand the cause of his reaction. So he forced himself not to think about the complicated nature of the man on stage beside them and gave Rookwood a thin smile, gesturing to his empty glass.

“I’d better let you return to your guests,” he said, “Tell Yennefer that I’ll be at the bar.”

_ “It’s our paradise and it’s our warzone.” _

He didn’t wait for Rookwood’s no-doubt smooth response, just downed the rest of his whiskey and set it on a passing waiter’s tray. The itch at the back of his neck told him that Rookwood was watching him still so he made a point of getting another drink before moving toward his real target. 

The stage.

Thankfully, Geralt hadn’t wasted his time while he was forced to socialize. He’d managed to catch sight of a small alcove set in the space on the other side of the speakers lining the stage. It wasn’t popular with the crowd because of the noise and a handy art display kept it out of sight from the stage. Jaskier’s eyes were closed in concentration as he continued to sing of sex and romance to the audience. 

Geralt tried not to think about how many nights he’d fallen asleep with the sound of that voice murmuring in his ear, wondering what it would be like to fall asleep next to him.

“ _ Pil-low talk! _ ” Jaskier belted behind him, continuing his slow grind of the microphone stand, “ _ My enemy, my ally. Prisoners, then we’re free. _ ”

Geralt swallowed hard, feeling the lyrics nudge awake the kernel of guilt deep in his chest. He knew better than to continue this.

And yet his feet were already moving him closer to the shadows nearest the stage.

“ _ It’s our paradise and it’s our warzone. _ ”

* * *

By the time Jaskier paused to announce that he was at the end of his set, Geralt still didn’t know what he intended to do about it even with the anger simmering in his veins.

Almost helplessly, he allowed the weakest part of himself to stand and follow after Jaskier when he waved off a few giggling fans and headed in the direction of the refreshments. The thief looked flushed and happy with his performance, clearly enjoying himself. Something twisted in Geralt’s chest when the man reached into his pocket to check his phone for any messages. Was he hoping for something from Geralt? Or was this all just another one of Jaskier’s games?

It was almost too easy to pull him into the shadow of one of the displays so they were out of sight from the crowd. Jaskier was still distracted by his phone when Geralt reached out to snag him around his waist and yank him back into the alcove, letting the music cover the sound of his startled yelp.

Geralt used his bulk and the element of surprise at the unexpected attack to force Jaskier fully out of sight of the crowd and shoved him up against the wall with one forearm across his chest. For a moment, the firm muscle beneath his bunched like Jaskier was preparing to fight back before blue eyes went wide and shocked.

“G-Geralt?”

“Why are you here?” Geralt hissed, ignoring the way his body was reacting to being pressed against the length of Jaskier’s body. He glanced around the room like he could guess who the thief intended to rob.

“I could ask you the same question,” Jaskier said, still looking baffled at being face to face with Geralt, “You’re supposed to be resting at home.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him, shoving away the part of him that hated the reminder that they were on opposite sides of this conflict. For one of them to win, the other would lose--whether it was a job or their freedom. It was doomed from the start. 

This time, Geralt refused to let Jaskier escape him.

“What are you doing here?”

Jaskier’s expression went shuttered and complicated before settling on guilty. “Geralt, it’s not what you think…”

“So you aren’t here to rob someone?”

A group of people moved past their hiding space, chattering about the food and both men went still. Geralt felt like he could feel the moment when they noticed the two of them pressed close in the shadows and the implication of the position. Giggles erupted behind him, but all Geralt could focus on was the growing desperation in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Geralt, you have to trust me--”

Geralt’s laugh was bitter. “The last time I trusted you you left me tied up in a closet.”

There was another burst of laughter and he pressed Jaskier more firmly against the wall, feeling his temper flare.

“Not here, Geralt,” Jaskier said, looking flushed and a little panicked, “If someone sees--”

Geralt frowned and looked over his shoulder, trying to find out who could be causing such a reaction. Jaskier almost looked...frightened at the thought of drawing attention to the two of them. It was the opposite of the confident man that had been on stage earlier. He scanned the crowd for any faces that looked familiar and almost turned back to the thief at his side when he saw him.

There, by the table of finger cakes, was the man who’d shot at him.

A red haze entered his vision at the sheer gall of the man to be out in public after attacking a police officer and Geralt started towards him with a ground. Strong hands around his arm and chest drew him up short and he looked down in surprise when Jaskier began to bodily nudge him away from his attacker. 

“ _ Please _ , Geralt, don’t--” he begged, eyes flicking back and forth between Geralt and the man, “You don’t understand--”

Suddenly furious, Geralt yanked himself free from Jaskier’s hold and stalked away, heading deeper into the back hallways that were blocked off from the rest of the party goers. He thought of how often Jaskier manipulated his way out of trouble. Thought of how foolish he felt each time the thief had disappeared after turning Geralt’s world upside down.

He could hear Jaskier hurrying after him as he walked down the hallway toward one of the conference rooms left unlocked. Inside, a long table stood empty aside from a few chairs and a wall of windows looking out at the dark skyline. Geralt grabbed the door behind him and practically yanked Jaskier in after him.

“No, I  _ don’t _ understand,” he hissed, glaring at the thief in the dim light. “I don’t understand why you expect me to trust you when all you do--all you’ve  _ ever _ done--is use me to get yourself out of trouble.”

“It’s not like that,” Jaskier protested, looking equally frustrated. “I  _ told _ you not to keep looking into this case. It’s too dangerous.”

_ “Why would you care if it’s dangerous for me?” _   
  


Jaskier flinched like he’d been slapped and Geralt had to shove away the bolt of guilt he felt for causing it. His expression went flat and he stared hard at Geralt. 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he said after a moment, voice hard and sharp enough that Geralt wanted to flinch away. “I told you to leave it alone. I told you to stop looking into these robberies and you  _ refuse  _ to listen.”

“It’s my  _ job _ to find out what happened that night.”

“Well, your job is going to get you killed!” Jaskier snapped.

Geralt eyed him, taking in the aggressive stance and the way his eyes kept darting to the door like he expected them to have someone walk in on them at any moment. “What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”

Jaskier raked his hand through his hair, sending it into a riot of brown locks around his face. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, looking gutted. “I can’t tell you, Geralt.”

“Who are you protecting?” Geralt said quietly. 

For the first time, he felt like Jaskier might be truly frightened by this case. He thought of the way Jaskier just happened to choose to rob the museum on the same night as the other robbers. How Jaskier hadn’t seemed surprised to find himself trapped in a closet, but  _ had _ been startled at the arrival of a security guard. 

“I’m protecting  _ you _ , you stubborn, frustrating man!”

Something seemed to snap between them then.

Jaskier moved forward with a sharp breath, hands fisting into Geralt’s shirt to push him backwards. Geralt’s back hit the cool wall and he reached blindly for Jaskier’s waist so he could settle him more firmly against the cradle of his legs. Teeth nipped at his bottom lips and he opened his mouth with a groan that Jaskier echoed at the sight of Geralt’s eager hands and warm body. 

The anger and frustration that had driven them forward softened into something that felt infinitely more fragile. Jaskier traced the angle of Geralt’s cheekbone down to his neck with his lips, pausing to suck a bruise over the pounding heartbeat at the base of his throat. He grinned against hot skin at Geralt’s groan and rewarded him with a heartstopping kiss that left him dizzy and aching.

It felt like a goodbye, like the last burst of lightning before a storm dissipated and he reached for Jaskier almost desperately.

“Promise me you won’t disappear,” Geralt ~~begged~~ breathed. “Please.”

The words left him vulnerable. Painfully bare in the shadows of the room with his hope for more filling the space between them.

The thief leaned forward again, drinking in the taste of the feelings growing unsaid between them. Long, clever fingers trailed through his hair to cup his jaw and tilt him to the perfect angle for Jaskier to kiss him breathless. He felt like he was falling from some great height and the only thing anchoring him was Jaskier’s hands on his skin. Geralt let himself be pressed flat against the wall and kept his eyes closed even when the heat of Jaskier’s body moved away.

Jaskier’s lips pulled away just enough for him to rasp, “I promise.”

By the time Geralt opened his eyes, he was alone.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Based on the comments from the last installment, I will attempt to bring you some spicy content in the next chapter if the boys cooperate. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on the story so far!


End file.
